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“A little more to the left.”
“Better?”
“Maybe to the right two inches?”
Lestat mutters his annoyances under his breath, and looks up, narrowing his eyes as they fall upon Louis. Louis, who has been attempting to direct him into the proper and perfect placement of their tree.
His words. Those are Louis’ words, verbatim.
“How much longer must I fuss with this until you have decided it is in the right spot?” Lestat asks, not hiding the irritation he feels now. “It’s been over an hour, Louis!”
“I just want it to look right!” Louis exclaims in defense of his madness. “If the tree’s not right, nothing else will be!”
“Louis,” Lestat says, pouting now. “I am covered in pine needles. I smell like a tree. It is prickly against my beautiful hands and I do not see why the tree is not fine where it stands now!”
Louis stares at him, looking as though Lestat has cursed his very saint of a mother. He looks so offended, that Lestat begins to quickly regret saying anything against the damned tree in the first place. It is a tree! A silly tree for a silly holiday that means absolutely nothing to their kind! This is all about Louis, wishing to cling onto his human traditions. That is quite obvious.
“If you don’t want to help, I’ll do it myself,” Louis says, tone rough and gritty from the upset he so clearly feels. It is visible upon his face, especially in his eyes, and Louis storms over to pull the tree back himself.
Lestat’s shoulders fall in their defeat. He knows that if he is to say one more thing, that Louis will lash out at him. It is just that Lestat does not understand the need for such a display in their home. Why is it that they continue to follow human traditions when they are so far above such things? It is not the first time that Lestat curses Louis’ refusal to accept his vampire nature and it will not be the last but…
He decides to humor his companion for the time being. It is better than arguing and he can tell that Louis is close to shouting at him now.
“May I help?” Lestat asks as he tries to be more understanding. “Let me help, Louis? Please?”
“A minute ago you were whining and now you want to help,” Louis says doubtfully. “What do you take me for, Lestat?” He doesn’t look at Lestat, instead remaining focused on the tree and moving it this way and that. Louis concentrates on the task at hand and it is an admirable trait in his fledgling.
If only Louis could be more concentrated upon Lestat. Is he not a better focus than a tree? The bitterness flows through Lestat and he is determined to get this over with so they may move on to more enjoyable pastimes. That is now his goal, and he has a very good chance of achieving it if he just gets into Louis’ good graces.
“This is… important to you, Louis,” Lestat carefully says. “And what is important to you is important… to me.”
Louis laughs. He laughs and finally looks back at Lestat. “You don’t even sound convincing. You realize that, right? It sounds like you’re in pain from saying that to me.”
His jaw drops. “I am not in pain!” Lestat exclaims. “I am only trying to be a good companion to you. A good maker to his fledgling!”
“Don’t call me that,” Louis snaps. “You know I don’t like it.”
“Then what shall I call you?” Lestat asks. He stops his standing away from Louis and goes to him. It is step after step taken until he is right at Louis’ side, breathing in his scent. It comes over his senses and Lestat feels the beginnings of desire blooming from deep inside. This comes as no surprise; Lestat is always wanting of Louis. There is not a day that goes by that he does not wish to lose himself in his eternal companion. His perfect creation. His gorgeous lover.
The way in which Louis shifts away from him has Lestat smiling a wickedly mischievous smile. He cannot help it, nor can he contain it from growing. His eyes glimmer in delight and Lestat reaches out, his fingertips touching Louis at the elbow.
Louis smacks his hand away. This comes as no surprise to Lestat.
“Ah, we are feisty tonight,” Lestat chuckles. “Louis, my darling, please do not be this way. Come now! Let me touch you! Let me hold you?”
“Stop it,” Louis snaps at him again. “I’m busy and you’re distracting me. If you don’t want to celebrate Christmas with me, fine, but don’t try to stop me from celebrating it myself. There are some things I refuse to give up and this is one of them.”
“Louis,” Lestat sighs, finding it difficult to pretend to be anything but frustrated. His fledgling has stopped each attempt Lestat has made to sway him to the better side. The nicer side. The side in which they retire to bed and have a fantastic time in it.
“Louis, allow me to help,” Lestat tries once more. His expression is solemn, the devilish glint in his eyes fading away in favor of a more serious sight. “Please, my darling, let me be part of this with you?”
Louis has been ever hesitant. He is forever questioning and curious and these are more trains that Lestat finds so admirable and so attractive in him, but also immensely frustrating. Why is Louis not able to simply be swayed by Lestat’s charms? Has the magic already worn off? And so soon?
“All right,” Louis finally gives in. “Come here.”
Lestat’s solemn expression immediately morphs into glee and he practically skips to Louis’ side. They are side by side and Lestat doesn’t hesitate as he presses his arm against Louis’. The contact makes everything so much better and Lestat is beaming at his lover.
Louis laughs. He laughs and the sound is like Bella to Lestat’s ears. “There he is,” Lestat says, “there is my Louis, with his beautiful smile that could turn even Scrooge himself into the best of men.”
“Now stop that,” Louis demands, albeit playfully. “Come on, come here. Let’s do this together.”
Lestat smirks. “We are quite good together, the best. Aren’t we?”
“Lestat,” Louis says, very serious and stern with him. “Please? The sooner we do this, the sooner we can decorate!”
That has Lestat’s smirk freezing as he takes in what Louis has said. Decorate? They are to decorate? “Louis, my love, we have maids for such a task.”
“No, no, it won’t be special or right if we don’t decorate our tree,” Louis disagrees. “Don’t you want to do this with me? It’s our first Christmas, Lestat. These are important memories to make with each other.”
Lestat would rather make other memories with his Louis. Memories of the more carnal nature. Memories in their bed. Oh, their bed. Lestat yearns for it now, nearly as much as he yearns for Louis to stop this and just take off his damned clothes.
“Are you listening to me?” Louis asks, his voice coming through Lestat’s fantasies. Reality returns, effectively bursting his little daydreams, and Lestat concentrates on Louis’ eyes as they search his own.
He nods. “Of course, my love. Of course we will decorate together. Look, the tree does look rather perfect here, doesn’t it? It will be seen by all who pass our home!”
Louis smiles then. He looks soft and young and happy, all things Lestat hopes Louis will always be. And with him, only with him.
“It’s perfect now,” Louis finally decides.
Lestat almost whoops out in joy, but manages to keep it contained.
“Now, for ornaments,” Louis announces excitedly. “I managed to buy some before the shops closed! They’re right in the hall and…”
Louis trails off as he walks away to retrieve said ornaments and Lestat watches him go. Ah, but what a sight his Louis is. So handsome, so very perfect. The curve of Louis’ backside alone has Lestat practically drooling. Has a man ever been as perfect as his Saint Louis? Surely not!
The passion Louis stokes within him is practically endless and could very well bring Lestat down to his knees. In fact, it has done such a thing many, many times, although Lestat has very much enjoyed being on his knees for all those times. Such good times, heated times, so passionate and fulfilling. So… right, to be there, looking up at Louis from where he has knelt upon the floor.
Such a willing servant to a perfect angel.
“I went with silver and gold,” Louis says from beside him.
Lestat startles once more out of his daydreams, and smiles at Louis instead. “Very traditional, darling,” Lestat compliments him. “It will look quite nice. And what of the topper?”
Louis chuckles a bit nervously. “Now... don’t get upset.”
“Louis,” Lestat gasps. It’s loud and dramatic and if his eyes widen in horror, what of it? He cannot believe what he sees, what Louis lifts from a small white box.
It is a betrayal. An absolute betrayal! It goes against all that they are. It goes against their very way of life, yet Louis stands there before him, the object of his betrayal clutched gently within his hands.
“An angel?” He asks, sounding strangled from the pure horror that fills his veins. “Louis, no.”
“Please, Lestat?” Louis asks, trying to look convincing as he bats his eyes lashes at Lestat. Lestat isn’t a fool; He knows exactly what Louis is doing and dammit if it isn’t precious to see Louis this way. He looks so innocent, as pure as the angel he holds in his beautiful hands.
“What will be my reward for such a kindness?” Lestat challenges him. “What do I gain from allowing such blasphemy to be blatantly displayed in our home?”
“A happy man at your side?” Louis offers.
“At my side and not in my bed?” Lestat fires back playfully, a smile beginning to form on his lips. “It would be such a sweet reward, to have a happy man in my bed. I’ve been waiting quite a while for such a thing.”
Louis rolls his eyes. “It’s been a few days,” he disagrees.
“No, no, no,” Lestat replies and shakes his head. “It has been four, Louis! Four days since you allowed such a luxury! One would think once a union such as ours took place, I would not be denied as constantly as I am.”
“Lestat, you’re such a baby,” Louis says. “You’re over a hundred. What’s a few days without?”
The question hangs in the air as Lestat falls silent. There is not a quick retort from the elder vampire as he studies his companion. Does Louis truly not understand the longing? Does he not feel as crazed? Does he not need Lestat to the extent in which he needs Louis?
In two steps, Lestat sweeps forward, grabs Louis by the wrist and pulls him flush to Lestat’s chest. His mouth comes to a breath apart from Louis’ and Lestat’s eyes fall to a close at the scent of Louis so near. “What is a few days without you,” Lestat repeats breathily. “It is pure torture, Mon coeur. It is endless yearning for my companion heart to gift me with attention I dream of when we are apart. It is pain, of the emotional and the physical, when I am unable to touch you.”
Lestat’s grasp upon Louis’ wrist is vice like. It pleases him to note Louis has not tried to shake him away. It means something. It means so much.
“All I desire is you, Louis,” Lestat continues passionately. “Only you, every night, for eternity.”
Lestat draws the distance between them with a step back, wishing to search Louis’ face, to look into his eyes and see if he has been able to get through to his stubborn man. What he sees is excellent; Louis is there, breathing shallowly, his pupils blown out to the size of dinner plates, the emerald of his eyes barely seen while replaced with the darkness of desire.
It thrills Lestat.
His heart races.
Faster.
Louis dissolves the step Lestat has taken back as he comes forth, his mouth crushing to Lestat’s.
And faster.
Lestat’s grasp upon Louis’ wrist remains, but he feels Louis’ free hand come up to grasp at the back of his neck, his fingers sliding up into his hair. Lestat moans lowly against Louis’ mouth and he’s being walked backwards, unable his body hits a wall.
It is so welcome. Lestat’s moan is louder as he pushes his hips into Louis’ with great enthusiasm. Louis bites his bottom lip on return and draws blood, which only thrills Lestat more.
He is wanted. Louis does in fact want him the very same. The knowledge does something to Lestat’s insides that could very well be compared to setting an entire forest ablaze. His head spins, dizzy with love and with lust, and the taste of his own blood that Louis has drawn from his mouth.
The angel has been forgotten, left somewhere behind, and Lestat finds himself delightfully made the subject of Louis’ focus now as Louis kisses his way down the length of Lestat’s throat, to nuzzle against the base, to trace at his skin with his tongue.
Lestat finally lets Louis’ wrist go and both Louis’ hands immediately come to hold Lestat’s hips. The squeeze is firm and Lestat wants more, always more. He wants what he wants and what he wants is Louis. To be so wholly consumed, to be claimed, to be made Louis’ in every way imaginable.
“You’re a scoundrel,” Louis growls against Lestat’s skin.
“Yes,” Lestat hisses. “I am. I am!”
“A fiend,” Louis continues as he lifts his head and meets Lestat’s own darkened gaze. “A vile man. A devil. A whore.”
“For you,” Lestat croons. “All for you, my Louis.”
“You’re insane,” Louis says, the words tinted with affection. “You’re the worst person I’ve ever met.”
“The most interesting person you have met,” Lestat disagrees. “And you love me, Louis. You love me.”
Louis smiles a small smile, one that barely grows at his beautiful lips, but Lestat’s vampire eyes catch it and burn it to memory. It is important. It has meaning, more than Louis will ever admit, and it is all right. Louis does not say the words, but his every action screams them at Lestat.
He loves Lestat. He does, he does.
Lestat tips his forehead to Louis’ and the contact has his entire being washed over in delicious heat. Louis is just as warm and it delights Lestat to know he’s been feeding well recently on his own. It’s all Lestat truly wishes for Louis, for his fledgling to be happy and healthy and whole, and most importantly, his.
“Is this what you want?” Louis suddenly asks without specifying.
It confuses Lestat and his eyes meet Louis’ once more as his head falls back against the wall. Louis gives nothing away and Lestat, not for the first time, misses Louis’ wondrous human thoughts that he so often was the star of.
“I want you,” Lestat plainly says. It's a simple, lifelong desire. He always wants Louis, and willalways want him. Forever.
But Louis shakes his head, glances back, and then returns his stare to Lestat’s. “You want this? You want me to fuck you here, where anyone could walk by and see from the windows?”
Lestat fully grins. It is such an immediate reaction of pure delight. “Oh, Louis, yes,” Lestat answers, nodding his head. “For all the city to see!”
“You’re such a slut,” Louis laughs, bringing a hand up to cup Lestat’s right cheek. “You wanna risk it all so everyone can see us fuck?”
“What a sight it would be,” Lestat moans, nuzzling his cheek to Louis’ palm. “A beauty no mortal would be able to truly register. You are exquisite, my darling.”
“And you’re crazy,” Louis says as he pulls Lestat right down to the floor. Lestat falls forward, onto Louis and they laugh together. Lestat’s mouth seeks out Louis’ and once found in a kiss, all feels right as rain.
The sofa hides them from the world outside, and Lestat decides this is fine. As much as he would adore putting their lovemaking on display for the citizens of Rue Royale to see, he would much rather Louis be comfortable and able to lose himself in their passion. No distractions to take Louis’ attentions away from Lestat. Not one. Not when Lestat wants all of Louis, every single bit of him.
“Louis,” Lestat moans, pressing short kisses along his jaw. “Louis, Louis, fuck me,” he demands. He nips at the junction where Louis’ jaw and ear meets and smiles internally as Louis thrusts his hips up while Lestat sits astride him.
“Fucking clothes,” Louis grumbles, tugging at the buttons of Lestat’s shirt. “You wanna get fucked, but insist on more than three layers!”
“I will not be denied the luxury of fashion,” Lestat argues, aiding Louis in the removal of said fashion. “You do not see me complaining about your own clothes! You are not innocent of the same crime!”
“Lestat,” Louis outright whines as the heel of Lestat’s palm presses down onto Louis’ clothed erection. “Can’t you be good for once?”
“No,” Lestat laughs gleefully, rubbing his palm over Louis now. “Where is the fun in being good, my darling? There is none!”
Louis grabs at Lestat’s hands and pushes forward against his chest, sending Lestat to the floor instead. He lands with a loud thud and Lestat lays there, his arms above his head, his legs temptingly opened and waiting for Louis to crawl between.
And he does. Louis does much to Lestat’s delight. He knows his man. Oh, Lestat knows him very, very well.
They want the very same thing. They do, and Lestat is less argumentative and more pleasing as Louis quickly pulls Lestat’s pants right off of him. They are thrown behind Louis and Lestat’s lust for him grows stronger.
He’s hard himself, and he reaches down, stroking as he keeps his eyes locked upon Louis’. While Louis finishes unbuttoning his shirt, Lestat continues to stroke himself and he doesn’t hide how good it feels. In fact, Lestat may exaggerate his moans and whimpers as Louis kisses at his face, at his lips. Despite it all, the anger, the at times resentment, the sadness, there is still happiness, joy, want, and love. It is there, so deep inside, and every action is ruled by it between them. The connection cannot be denied, not with how intense it is, and the way Lestat can see the very ties that bind them corded around their bodies.
“Mmm, Louis,” Lestat purrs. He stills his hand around himself and glances up through hooded, heavy eyelids. His lips pout for a kiss and he hums again. “Touch me? Your hand is far better than mine, darling.”
“Lestat,” Louis murmurs, his heated gaze raking down Lestat’s now very exposed, naked form. “You’re incredible.”
That makes him smirk. “I know.”
“Lestat,” Louis repeats, but it is reprimanding and yet so adoring. Love, it is love. “You’re too much.”
“Touch me,” Lestat demands now. “Kiss me.” Lestat’s lips pout more and he licks them, enticing Louis into doing what he demands.
His lover is always so stubborn. He never does what Lestat asks. He’s always fighting, but it’s also so alluring that Lestat doesn’t mind much at all. Here he is, lying naked and hard, demanding Louis take him, and Louis resists. No one ever says no to him, no one. Not in his long life, and not before, in his human years.
Louis is special.
“Mon bel homme,” Letsat purrs once more as he decides to use French to lure Louis into doing what he so desires. “Embrasse-moi. Je veux tes mains sur moi! Je veux ta bouche sur tout mon corps!”
The way Louis’ breath catches in his throat makes Lestat shiver, but also grin in triumph because it works as he expects it to. It always works and he always does get what he wants in the end. Is that not how he was able to have Louis? He set his eyes upon Louis and knew he had found his heart’s companion. With that settled inside his chest, Lestat did not stop until he made Louis his that fateful night a year before.
And what a year it has been!
“Louis,” Lestat coos. “S'il te plait mon amour. Mon homme magnifique. Mon tout. J'ai besoin de toi.”
He licks his lips and it happens as he so longs for it to. Louis folds himself over Lestat and seals his lips to Lestat’s. Lestat wraps his legs around Louis’ waist and his arms around his neck, holding on tightly, refusing to let Louis go far from him now.
They kiss, their tongues sliding against the other, and his lust grows heavy over him. He needs Louis, needs to feel him in the most carnal of ways.
“Fait moi tiens,” he whispers into their kiss.
Louis’ hips thrust against his, grinding down, and Lestat throws his head back. He moans loudly, knowing how much Louis loves to hear how he’s feeling, and Lestat makes a show of it. He knows his lover well, knows exactly what to do and what to say and how to be to give Louis the satisfaction and pleasure he deserves.
There is a tearing sound heard, the fabric being ripped, and Lestat looks down, realizing Louis has not the strength to part from him enough to remove the remainder of his own clothing. It excites Lestat so badly and he’s smirking up at Louis without an ounce of shame.
“Oui, s'il te plait, oui Louis!” He calls out passionately.
His lover descends upon him once more, but does not kiss his lips. No, Louis slides two fingers into Lestat’s open mouth and Lestat greedily sucks, enjoying the sensation far too much. He makes quite a show, giving Louis’ fingers a treatment he normally gives to a much larger and more intimate part of his companion. His beloved. His angel of a lover. His very heart.
His very heart, who slides his fingers from Lestat’s mouth and sits back upon his knees. Lestat doesn’t like such a development, needing Louis to please return to being right against him. He makes this need known as he groans in dissatisfaction and reaches out for him.
“I want you on your hands and knees,” Louis informs him. “Now.”
Oh! Lestat decides he very much likes this new development and nods as he rises as well. As he turns, he presses his ass against Louis’ groin and rubs back against him momentarily.
Louis, as Lestat so enjoys, grips at Lestat’s hips and holds him tightly as he relishes the sensation. Lestat rolls his hips back again and then lets out a sound of surprise as Louis pushes him down onto his hands before him.
“Who is the fiend now?” Lestat taunts, gazing back at Louis. “Hmm? Such a rough way to treat your lover, Louis!”
“You love it,” Louis says. “You love the way I manhandle you.”
Lestat laughs. “You are right, my love,” he admits. “Please, won’t you manhandle me a bit more?”
“You’re awful,” Louis complains. He grasps at Lestat’s ass, squeezing it tightly in his hands. Lestat pushes back into his hold, enjoying it so very much. He sighs in his happiness over this and looks back again, smiling more.
“You look like an angel, but say things only a devil could,” Louis says. A moment later, he rears his hand back and makes an impact, slapping at Lestat loudly enough that it echoes and bounces against the walls.
“Oh, Louis,” Lestat moans. “Again! Won’t you do it again?”
“Lestat,” Louis hisses. He is unsure if it is in anger or desire or both, but Louis does in fact slap at his backside again, harder this time. Lestat moans and begs for it again, but Louis doesn’t give in this time.
“Yes, yes,” Lestat sighs. He stretches forward like a cat, resting his cheek upon his folded arms and hums from contentment. “You’re so good to me, darling,” Lestat murmurs against his arm. He very much enjoys the way Louis currently massages at the spots upon his backside he has previously struck. “You treat me so well. You’re such a giving lover.”
Such a tender, loving man. He is so passionate, so able to lose himself to said passions when he fully gives himself over to it. Lestat is always thrilled when it happens and he doesn’t take those moments for granted. No, he indulges, as he indulges in all he enjoys.
Louis is the one person he enjoys most of all. The apple of his eye, his most perfect of creations, and his most beloved. No one compares, and no one has come close to this feeling of absolute perfection. It is why he trusts this, and why Lestat knows that they cannot allow themselves to be parted.
He knows that he is a lot. Lestat is very aware of who he is and how he is, but Louis compliments him so very well. Where Lestat is brash, Louis is calm. Where Lestat is loud, Louis is quiet. Where Lestat is angry, Louis is kind. Always so very, very kind. Never cruel, never intent to harm. He is, quite frankly perfect in Lestat’s eyes.
Just as he is now, as Lestat gazes back at him. Louis is flush, full of want, and so beautiful.
And Lestat wants him so very, very much.
“Haven’t we played long enough?” He must ask at this point of the night. “Do you not tire of the games, Louis? Am I alone in my needs?”
Lestat’s eyes flicker down, and he smirks, taking in the very obvious and hard proof of Louis’ own desire for him. “Don’t you want to bury your cock in me? I know that I want it very much. More and more as you insist upon denying me.”
Louis swallows and Lestat’s eyes follow the movement of his throat. If he does not get what he wants soon, he is unsure of how calm he will be able to remain.
“You talk too much,” Louis says, frowning at him. “I should shut you up.”
“Is that a promise?” Lestat challenges with a flirty wink.
It’s the huff of frustration Louis lets out that really does it. It’s so obvious Louis can resist him no longer and he finds he is correct when Louis grasps his hips and tugs Lestat back against him of his own volition.
There’s a moment of Louis rocking his erection against his ass, and then Lestat is reduced to whining loudly when the contact ends once more.
“Tease!” Lestat shouts in his own frustration.
Louis laughs, a deep and low laugh, and it sets Lestat aflame. He’s abruptly shoved forward and braces himself on his hands to the hardwood floor below him. Sometimes, sometimes Louis is able surprise him in a way that makes him feel as though liquid fire replaces the blood in his veins. It fills him, makes a home within, and all he feels is the strongest of needs to be completely owned.
He’s brought out of such thoughts when he feels Louis touching him, moving fingers lazily to slide inside of him. Lestat arches his back and moves with the rhythm Louis sets, following to chase the immediate pleasure that begins to bloom deep inside his belly.
“Yes,” he sighs, continuing to move at the pace Louis sets with his long fingers. “Yes, Louis.”
“Yes, Louis,” his lover repeats, laughing again. “You’re such a slut for this.”
“I am,” Lestat agrees wholeheartedly. “More!”
“So bossy,” Louis chides him. “Amazing how you can be with my fingers in your ass.”
Lestat throws his head back and laughs loudly. “I know what I want,” he rasps. “I get what I want.”
“Because I allow it,” Louis reminds him and thrusts his fingers roughly in and out of him. “Because I let it happen, baby.”
“Oh,” Lestat gasps and shivers. He digs his nails down into the hardwood and knows he’ll be upset about it later. It’s always a bitch to have humans come in and fix up their home in the aftermath of their passionate disasters. Questions are always asked or thought and it ends with a meal. Of course, it’s a meal for them, which isn’t a bad thing, but it’s best not to raise any unnecessary concerns from the humans around the city.
“Mmm, you like that?” Louis asks, continuing his rough pace. He curves his fingers and begins to rub up against that sweet spot inside of Lestat.
It has Lestat keening loudly and beginning to tense up. He hasn’t touched himself yet, but with this sudden and welcome change of events, Lestat reaches between his legs and squeezes the base of his cock to stay his orgasm.
“Please fuck me,” Lestat pleads. “Come inside me, Louis. I want you inside me. I need you inside me.”
Louis breathes shallowly and slips his fingers from Lestat. The scent of blood hits his senses, and when Lestat looks back, Louis has bitten his own fingers and rubs his blood over his erection, coating it from root to tip.
Lestat’s mouth fills with his own blood, having bitten his tongue without realizing and he swallows it down quickly. If he is to drink blood, it won’t be his own, but Louis’.
“You’re so fucking bossy,” Louis says once more as he takes a hold of himself and presses the head of his cock at Lestat’s entrance. “Always driving me up the wall. Always demanding and taking and Goddamn-“
They both moan as Louis doesn’t take his time. He doesn’t take it slow, doesn’t go inch by inch, but slides right home, bottoming out inside of Lestat. It’s the perfect fit and Lestat wants to scream out in triumph.
“You’re so tight,” Louis groans, rocking his hips against Lestat’s ass. “Fuck, I could just stay like this for hours and be happy.”
“Oh, don’t tempt me with such a good time,” Lestat gasps breathlessly. “Not if you have no intention of doing it!”
“I’m gonna fuck you like you’ve been whining about,” Louis informs him as he rocks back and thrusts forward again. The sound of Louis’ hips slapping against Lestat’s ass makes him tremble and whimper.
“Yes, please,” Lestat begs again. “Fuck me, fuck me! Oh, fuck me hard!”
Lestat screams out at the thrust Louis takes, lurching forward and nearly crashing down onto the floor below. It’s so strong and he’s so turned on by the show of strength Louis gives to him.
The pace remains, and each time Louis rocks back, he has practically withdrawn, only to slam back into Lestat again and again and again. The fullness of Louis filling him every time has Lestat practically sobbing from the pleasure.
This is what he’s wanted and now Louis is giving it to him twofold. He’s giving it so well and Lestat is finding it hard to even think. He’s so lost to the pleasure and with every stroke of Louis’ cock inside of him, he manages to rub up against that bundle of nerves that seems to be the pleasure center of his entire body.
He’s mumbling in French, sobbing out Louis’ name, begging for more and more and more, making no sense at all. He’s just endlessly calling out for Louis, to take him, please take him, please. And Louis does, he does. That’s the magic of it all.
Louis gives Lestat all he’s been begging for the entire night and he gives it to him so well that everything else falls away. It is just the two of them, just them, alone to the world. There is nothing in existence, but Louis and his body and the wild, untamed way in which he takes Lestat right there, on their parlor floor.
The pleasure doubles, triples, inside of him and he’s gasping and moaning, wrapping his hand around himself to stroke quickly. He barely manages to mimic the pace Louis takes but he is so there, so close.
And then, Louis bites him.
Sharp fangs cut into the flesh of his neck, sink in and he draws Lestat’s blood, pulls it, takes him in every way imaginable. Lestat doesn’t belong to himself, not at all. He’s all for Louis and as Louis drinks him, he comes.
The swoon is strong, taking him away with warmth and what he imagines the sun must feel like. It is there, cast over his skin, making him flush with heat and orgasm. Lestat hears only the loud drumming of their hearts, and the sound of Louis drinking his blood.
He falls to the floor, unable to hold himself up any longer, and lies there as Louis finds his own pleasure.
After, it is quiet save for Louis breathing laboriously against his neck. It makes him smile, so dumbly, and he remains there unmoving to enjoy the afterglow of it all. He’s so immensely in love with this man, one who can be so gentle one moment and in the next, a complete animal, led by his passions and nothing more.
Lestat adores him. He absolutely adores every part of Louis. There is nothing about him that Lestat finds he dislikes save for his inability to kiss and touch Louis as much as he does due to a lack of time in the night.
He hums pleasantly at the sensation of Louis running his tongue along the bite he’s left, and finally, Louis lifts enough and Lestat rolls beneath him.
They are face to face, and Lestat beams up so proudly at his beloved.
“That was more than I could have hoped for,” Lestat informs his lover.
His darling lover, whose cheeks burn pink. Lestat lifts his hands, dances his fingertips across Louis’ cheeks, loving the tint of them.
“We went a little crazy,” Louis murmurs, closing his eyes as Lestat continues to dote upon him now. He leans into Lestat’s touch, which sets his heart racing.
Lestat loves the way it feels, since they are pressed chest to chest. It feels like they’re still somewhat one, even if their bodies are no longer connected.
“You’re passionate,” Lestat says. “I adore you so, Louis. Especially when you let go and don’t let your head control your heart.”
“You talk too much,” Louis murmurs, repeating what he has said before. It makes Lestat smile all the more and he wraps his arms around Louis’ neck to bring him down into a very needed kiss.
The affection is sweet, and Lestat allows himself to fully give in to it. Why deny themselves something that comes so naturally? Despite what Louis says and how he behaves, Lestat knows him best and he knows Louis enjoys this just as much.
“Would you rather I not speak at all?” Lestat asks. “Would that make it better for you?”
“No,” Louis mumbles and shakes his head. “Just… not as much would be nice.”
“Louis,” Lestat chuckles, “all or nothing, my darling man.”
At that, Louis sighs and finally allows himself to relax, bringing himself to lie down, to rest his cheek on Lestat’s shoulder. Lestat takes advantage now and runs his hands up and down the expanse of Louis’ back, reveling in the sensation of Louis’ soft skin beneath his touch. This is all he needs now. No more fighting, always fighting against what is so clearly meant to be. It is written in the stars, and as romantic as Lestat is, he knows Louis doesn’t agree to things like that.
But it is, it is.
Their very hearts beat in tandem, their breathing synced just the same. That is something important, some tangible proof that it is not solely Lestat’s romanticism alone.
“We have to finish decorating the tree,” Louis suddenly says and breaks the comfortable silence between them.
Lestat peers over at what he can see if the tree and frowns. “It is finished.”
Louis shakes his head, pressing his nose to Lestat’s throat. “The angel,” he mumbles.
Lestat tenses, but doesn’t become upset. Not like before. “Can we not come to a compromise, my love?”
“What would you have us put on top of the tree?” Louis asks him.
Lestat smiles. “Ah, if only I had a miniature of you, Saint Louis.”
Louis growls a little and sits up to glare down at him. Lestat doesn’t stop himself as he laughs, but he does reach up for him.
“No, no,” Lestat laughs, trying to stop Louis as he slaps Lestat’s hands away. “My love! I only jest! Yes, yes, you may have your angel atop the tree!”
That immediately stops Louis from slapping at Lestat’s hands and his eyes grow wide, excited by the change in tune from the elder vampire. He grins and pulls Lestat up, embracing him tightly.
“Why?” Louis asks as they both rise from the floor.
“Hmmmm?” Lestat replies as he flashes to the windows and draws the curtains to a close. It won’t do for the neighbors to see them in the nude at this point. That silly idea has long since passed by now.
“Why the sudden change about the angel?” Louis asks, holding said angel gently in his hands. He is careful as he walks to the tree and reaches up, placing it at the top.
Lestat goes to stand at his side and presses a kiss to Louis’ shoulder. “Well, my darling, you fucked me so hard that I believe I was able to see something akin to heaven for a moment and I suppose this darling angel will remain as a reminder of just how gloriously you made me come.”
“Lestat!” Louis cries out in a strangled breath and turns to glare at him.
But Lestat is already laughing and grabbing at Louis’ hand, to lead him out of the parlor and up to their bedroom. “You do protest too much, my darling,” Lestat sings as they begin their ascent up the stairs. “You saw heavenly stars just as I did. I know you did.”
Louis all but grunts an answer, but Lestat just continues to laugh. By the time they reach the bedroom door, Lestat merrily flings it open.
“I’d like a turn this time,” he mentions as casually as one can considering the subject. “I am thinking, hmm, perhaps your coffin? It’s so much more spacious than my own and I do love the shade of satin against your skin as I fuck you to heaven’s gates.”
“Lestat!” Louis yells at him. Yet he does not falter as Lestat does indeed lead him right to the coffin room.
“Hush, Louis,” Lestat says and pulls him close. They sway together, and he leans in to kiss his lover quickly. “Let’s have a Merry Christmas.”
A very, merry, blasphemous, Christmas.
It’s perfect.